Fire

by Deborah Challinor

  ‘Hope there isn’t a fire,’ Sonny remarked, ‘we’d never get out.’

  Allie laughed.

  There was another short silence, then they both spoke at once.

  ‘Sorry,’ Sonny said, ‘go on.’

  ‘I was just going to say, do you like cowboy films?’

  ‘Yeah, they’re OK. Do you?’

  ‘They’re OK,’ Allie echoed. She cast about for something else to say. ‘What about war films, do you like those?’

  ‘Not really. Load of rubbish, most of them.’

  Allie wasn’t sure how to respond to that. Normally she was good at conversation, even with people she didn’t know, but she was making very heavy weather of it at the moment. Eventually she said, ‘Busy at work?’

  ‘Flat out. Everybody wanting things for Christmas and for the queen so there’s lots of stuff coming in and going out. What about you?’

  ‘The same.’ She waited a beat before she went on. ‘So when did you start at Dunbar & Jones?’

  ‘Beginning of October.’

  Allie nodded with satisfaction. ‘Yes, that’s about when I first noticed you.’

  Sonny turned to her, looking very pleased with himself. ‘Ah, so you’d already noticed me, had you?’

  Wishing that the lights had already gone down so he couldn’t see the blood rushing to her face, Allie said, ‘The first time I saw you, I mean. In the caf’

  ‘I noticed you the day I started, sitting there with your friends with that beautiful big smile of yours and that lovely hair.’

  Allie was so startled she could only stare at him.

  Sonny laughed. ‘What? It’s true. You’ve got fantastic hair.’

  ‘Well, um, thank you,’ Allie said, thoroughly unused to such compliments, particularly from men. ‘I get it from my mother, even though she’s Irish. Most people think Irish women have dark hair, but my mother’s really fair. Or she was—it’s fading a bit now she’s getting older.’

  Aware she was prattling, Allie stopped, though Sonny seemed to be quite absorbed by what she was saying. This close she could see he had a line of small, pink scars marking the brown skin of his face, going from the outside of his right cheekbone and disappearing under his jaw. It looked as though he’d run into a particularly nasty length of barbed wire.

  ‘Got any brothers or sisters?’ he asked. Clearly he was struggling for things to say as well.

  ‘Two younger sisters, fifteen and fourteen.’

  He nodded. ‘Both your parents still alive?’

  ‘Yes,’ Allie said, slightly shocked. ‘Aren’t yours?’

  ‘Mum is. My old man died a couple of years ago.’

  Allie felt awful. ‘God, I’m sorry.’

  Sonny shrugged. ‘He wasn’t much to write home about. Sometimes I think we’re better off.’

  ‘Do you have brothers and sisters?’ Allie asked, unnerved by Sonny’s response and deliberately changing the subject.

  ‘Five older brothers and sisters, and five younger ones.’

  ‘There’s eleven of you?’

  Sonny smiled. ‘We don’t all live at home. There’s no room since we moved, anyway. I’m the oldest still there, and I’ll be shifting out as soon as I get set up.’ He must have seen the question in her face because he added, ‘I’m twenty-three.’

  ‘Oh. I’m—’

  ‘Twenty, I know.’

  Allie frowned.

  ‘I asked Terry at work,’ Sonny said. ‘She’s hapu, his girlfriend, isn’t she?’

  ‘Pardon?’

  ‘That girl he goes with. She’s…’ he held his hands out over his stomach, ‘…having a baby.’

  ‘And did Terry tell you that as well?’ Allie didn’t think Daisy would be very pleased.

  ‘Yeah. He was having a bit of a worry one day, and he told me about it.’ Sonny shrugged again. ‘It’s all right, it’s none of my business. He’s a nice bloke, Terry.’

  ‘Mmm, he is. And Daisy’s lovely, too. It’s a secret, though, about the baby.’

  Sonny grinned. ‘Won’t be a secret when it gets born six months after the wedding, though, will it?’

  Annoyed, Allie said, ‘And that’s funny, is it?’

  ‘Not really, but it happens, doesn’t it? And like I said, it’s none of my business. Good on him, though. Some blokes would run a mile.’

  As Allie was pondering how very true this was, the lights dimmed, a rash of coughing washed through the auditorium, and, below them, heavy curtains swept silently back from the cinema screen.

  First up was a newsreel showing something about the establishment of a new Egg Marketing Authority and an item about the Wattie’s cannery in Hawke’s Bay, neither of which was very interesting, and another on the New Zealand soldiers who were still stationed in Korea, even though the war had ended in July.

  ‘I hardly know anything about the Korean War,’ Allie said when the newsreel had finished.

  ‘Most people don’t,’ Sonny answered shortly.

  ‘It’s awful, though, don’t you think? We had soldiers there for nearly three years and nobody seemed to give a toss. Nobody at home, anyway.’

  ‘Suited some people,’ Sonny said.

  Allie looked at him. ‘What do you mean?’

  ‘Well, look at the sheep farmers, for a start. Wool prices just about tripled overnight.’

  But before Allie could ask Sonny how on earth he knew that, the main feature started. Unfortunately, at the same time, two women sat down in the seats in front of Allie, one of them wearing a hat so large it almost completely blocked the screen.

  ‘Bugger,’ Allie said under her breath, and leaned as far to the right as she could. She could have moved to the left, of course, but she didn’t want to do that in case Sonny thought it was just an excuse for her to fall all over him.

  ‘Can’t you see?’ he asked.

  ‘Not really.’

  Sonny slid forward in his seat, tapped the woman on the shoulder and said, ‘Hey, lady, excuse me, but my girlfriend can’t see through your bloody big hat. Can you take it off, please?’

  Utterly affronted, the woman turned around. Above the silhouette of her hat, Allie could just see the top third of a group of desperadoes gathering on the outskirts of a wild west town, but not much else.

  ‘I beg your pardon?’ the woman said.

  ‘I said, can you take your hat off? It’s in the way.’

  ‘I’ve never heard anything so outrageous in my life!’

  ‘Haven’t you? You can’t get out much, then.’

  Allie laughed out loud, then clapped her hand to her mouth.

  The woman turned to her companion and announced, ‘Come on Edith, we’re finding somewhere else to sit. I refuse to be harangued by…by his sort!’

  ‘Better?’ Sonny asked after they’d gone.

  ‘Much, thank you.’ Allie knew that if she’d been by herself she wouldn’t have had the nerve to say anything.

  They settled in to watch the film, which Allie found much more entertaining than she’d expected. During the big fistfight, Sonny’s arm, which was lying along the back of Allie’s seat, inched down until it rested across her shoulders. She froze for a moment, then let herself lean into him. She quickly realized how uncomfortable she was, but decided it was worth putting up with.

  As the credits rolled up the screen, Allie sat up straight in her seat, easing the crick in her neck. The lights came on and Sonny took his arm away.

  ‘Well, that wasn’t bad, was it?’ Allie said.

  Sonny turned to her and sang ‘Do not forsake me, oh my daaarlin’.’

  ‘I’ll try not to.’

  Grinning, Sonny stood up and stretched until Allie was sure she heard his spine crack. ‘A bit hard on your arse, these seats.’

  Allie’s bum was numb, too, but she certainly wasn’t going to rub it to get the circulation going in the middle of the Civic Theatre.

  They waited until their row had cleared, then shuffled along until they reached the aisle, waiting for a
gap in the stream of people heading out of the auditorium. When someone moved in front of Allie, Sonny reached back, took her hand and drew her up next to him. His hand was warm and a little rough at the base of his fingers. He squeezed and Allie squeezed back.

  ‘Well,’ she said, when they’d been disgorged into the foyer, ‘thank you for that. I really enjoyed it.’

  ‘Good. So did I.’ Sonny smoothed his hair back from his forehead. ‘Want to go for a drink or something?’

  ‘A drink?’ Allie was surprised; her hand was already in her bag feeling around for her bus money.

  ‘The Wintergarden downstairs is open. Or we could get a coffee or something.’

  ‘I’m not sure.’ Allie knew her mother would worry if she wasn’t home when she’d said. ‘I’ve got work tomorrow.’

  ‘So have I.’

  ‘No. Thanks, Sonny, but I’d better not. I’ve had a lovely night, though.’

  ‘Tomorrow night?’

  ‘I’m sorry, I’m busy.’ And she was, with the fashion show.

  ‘Another time, then,’ he said.

  Allie suddenly realized that she’d played her hand badly, and felt almost winded with disappointment. ‘Yes, another time.’

  Outside it was still pleasantly warm and there were plenty of people out and about. Christmas and royal tour decorations mounted on telegraph poles and the façades of buildings sparkled and gleamed in the street lights, lending Queen Street a particularly festive air. Further down the street she could see Dunbar & Jones’s giant kiwi and lion flashing away twenty feet above the footpath.

  Sonny let go of her hand. ‘Allie, I didn’t mean “another time” as in let’s forget about it. I meant, will you go out with me again?’

  Her spirits suddenly soaring again, Allie shocked herself by saying, ‘No, why don’t you come out with me? Do you like dancing?’

  ‘Well, they don’t call me the King of Swing for nothing.’

  ‘Who calls you the King of Swing?’

  Sonny grinned. ‘No one, actually, but they should.’

  ‘Well, some Friday nights a group of us from work go to the Peter Pan. Terry and Daisy usually go, and Louise and her husband Rob. You know Louise, the tall, thin girl with the chestnut hair?’

  Sonny nodded.

  ‘And sometimes Irene as well, though her husband doesn’t like going out much so she’s usually on her own.’

  ‘Irene’s the dark one with the…’

  ‘Yes, that’s her.’ Allie felt a stab of irritation. ‘Obviously you’ve noticed her.’

  ‘Who hasn’t?’ Sonny said. ‘She’s a beaut-looking woman.’

  ‘Yes, she is,’ Allie admitted.

  ‘Not my cup of tea, though,’ Sonny said. He reached up to her hair and gently wound a strand of it around his finger. ‘I like my women all shiny and golden.’

  Shiny, golden and bright red, Allie thought, as she felt her face burn.

  He saw her embarrassment, and rescued her from it. ‘So, yeah, I’d like to come dancing with you,’ he said. ‘This Friday, you reckon?’

  Allie nodded.

  ‘I’ll look forward to it.’

  ‘So will I.’ Reluctantly, Allie looked at her watch. ‘I’ve got to go now, though, or I’ll miss my bus.’

  ‘I can give you a lift home.’

  ‘Oh. I didn’t think you had…’ Not wanting him to embarrass him now, Allie stopped.

  ‘A car?’ Sonny said. ‘I don’t, but I’ve got my brother’s truck. It’s not very flash, but it’ll get you home.’ He looked doubtful for a moment. ‘Probably. Where do you live?’

  ‘Orakei.’

  ‘Well, that’s easy. So do I.’

  ‘Really?’ Allie was delighted. ‘What street?’

  ‘Kitemoana.’

  Allie held Sonny’s almost defiant gaze, willing her face not to betray what she was ashamed to be thinking: how could a boy as bright and capable and well dressed as Sonny Manaia come from somewhere like Kitemoana Street? ‘That’s good,’ she said. ‘I live in Coates Ave, so it’s not too far out of your way.’

  ‘Right, then,’ Sonny said, and Allie saw in his eyes that he knew exactly what she’d been thinking. ‘Truck’s parked up the road.’

  He took her hand again and they turned into Wellesley Street and started walking up the hill. They crossed Albert Street, then Sonny stopped.

  The truck was old—much older than her father’s Morris 8. She didn’t know much about vehicles, but this one looked pre-First World War, never mind Second World War. It had a small, square cab and a wooden deck, and long curving mudguards over the front wheels. It also had rust everywhere and dents in the bonnet and in the passenger door. It might have been painted green once, but it was hard to tell.

  Sonny was watching her. ‘I’m getting something of my own in a few days,’ he said, ‘but beggars can’t be choosers, and at the moment I’m a beggar.’

  He opened the passenger door and held Allie’s elbow as she climbed in, then went around to the driver’s side. Allie’s window was down so she wound the handle—the frame came up, but there was no glass in it. She looked at Sonny and they both burst out laughing.

  ‘Told you,’ he said.

  ‘I think it’s…quaint,’ Allie said.

  ‘I think it’s a heap of shit.’

  That set them off again. Sonny started the motor and they rattled up Wellesley Street for a few yards before he did a U-turn, coasted down the hill with the engine back-firing loudly so that people on the footpath turned around to look, then turned left into Queen Street.

  The truck was very noisy, so Allie didn’t say much during the ride home. Sonny lit a cigarette, offered her one and then lit it for her with a shiny metal lighter. The smoke hovered in the cab for a second, then was sucked out through the missing window. When he shut the motor off outside her gate the silence seemed almost deafening. They sat for a minute, saying nothing.

  ‘Well,’ Sonny said eventually. He got his cigarettes out again. ‘Another smoke?

  ‘No, thanks.’

  He put the pack away and gazed down the street. ‘Sky’s nice and clear.’

  ‘Yes, it is,’ Allie replied. Her nerves were humming like a tuning fork and she wished he would either say goodnight or kiss her. The tension was killing her.

  He swivelled in his seat to face her, and she was just about to thank him again for a lovely night when he bent forward and brushed his lips against hers. It wasn’t a proper kiss, but it was very nice. He pulled back so he could see her properly, slid his hand into her hair and swept it back off her face.

  But, to Allie’s instant embarrassment, his fingers caught in a patch of hardened lacquer.

  ‘Whoops, sorry,’ he said, wiggling his fingers gently to extricate them, which only made it worse. He sat there for a moment, his hand caught just above Allie’s ear, then started to laugh.

  Allie was mortified now.

  He moved closer. ‘Hang on,’ he said and, gripping the hair near her scalp with his free hand, jiggled the other one until his fingers became disentangled. ‘Sorry,’ he said again, still grinning.

  There was nothing Allie could say that wouldn’t sound completely inane, so she leaned over and kissed him. Immediately his arms came up and settled around her, pulling her against him. His lips were smooth and warm, and she could feel his heart beating beneath his shirt. She slid her hand over his chest, and was mildly pleased to note that he wasn’t wearing a singlet, which would have reminded her too much of her father and his baggy braces.

  They kissed for several long minutes, and when Allie finally pulled away she was convinced she was only seconds away from melting completely. She was panting slightly and knew that if she didn’t go inside now, she might do something she’d regret. Or not regret at all, which would be even more dangerous.

  ‘I’d better go,’ she murmured, and was relieved when Sonny nodded.

  ‘I’d walk you in, but…I can’t,’ he said, looking down at his lap.

  Allie
looked down herself: the lump in his trousers was plain to see but he didn’t seem at all embarrassed by it.

  ‘Best not,’ she agreed. She opened the truck door and climbed out. ‘See you tomorrow at work?’

  ‘You will.’

  She was halfway down the path when he called out softly, ‘Allie?’

  She stopped.

  ‘Next time, don’t put any of that stuff in your hair, eh?’

  Chapter Five

  Thursday, 17 December 1953

  Irene set her cup of tea on the table and sat down. ‘Well, how did it go?’ She’d been dying to catch up with Allie, but she’d come in late and hadn’t been able to sneak away from the typing pool.

  Allie broke her Belgian biscuit in half, then licked her finger and collected the crumbs of pink icing that had fallen off. ‘Great, actually, considering Sonny nearly started a fight with a lady at the pictures, the truck he took me home in was older than my nan and only held together by rust, and I had so much lacquer in my hair that he got his hand stuck in it,’ she said, bracing herself for her friends’ response.

  She was actually feeling a bit flat. She hadn’t seen Sonny yet today, and prayed that he wasn’t avoiding her.

  Daisy paused, one of Terry’s mother’s oat biscuits halfway to her mouth. ‘Really? Why did he nearly get in a fight with a lady?’

  ‘Because she sat down in front of us with a bloody great hat on that completely blocked my view, and wouldn’t take it off even though he asked nicely. Well, quite nicely.’

  ‘Did he hit her?’ Daisy’s eyes were huge.

  Allie rolled her eyes. ‘Of course he didn’t hit her! She said she refused to be “harangued” by his sort—I think she meant a Maori—and moved to another seat, which suited me.’

  ‘Was it his truck?’ Irene asked.

  ‘It was his brother’s. He’d borrowed it for the night.’

  Irene said, ‘Well, that’ll make for a memorable summer romance, won’t it, swanning around town in an old borrowed wreck of a truck.’

  ‘He’s getting something of his own, soon,’ Allie said defensively.

  ‘And why was there so much lacquer in your hair?’ Irene asked.

  ‘Because Mum made me eat tea and it dried funny.’